


Remnant

by Reina18



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, alistair - Freeform, cousland - Freeform, remnant - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-03-22
Updated: 2010-03-23
Packaged: 2017-10-08 06:01:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/73469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reina18/pseuds/Reina18
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before the death of the archdemon, a promise was made and a ritual performed. The circle was cast and the deed was done, solidifying the pact. However, the resulting consequences return to haunt those involved. Years later, the deal between the Witch, the future king, and the hero of Ferelden is brought sharply back into the light. After many years, the result of the dark ritual returns into the lives of those that brought it into being, a reminder of an unsavory deal and a remnant of the past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

One of them had to die. Tomorrow, they would face the archdemon and one of them would die.  
        It was too much; too much too fast. Reina Cousland sat silently in the corridor, her head in her hands as she tried to take in everything that she had just heard. Her hair, short and flaming red with sections tied off in an alternating pattern around her crown, was mussed from her hands running through it repeatedly in frustration. Bright blue eyes threatened tears, though she contained them because she knew the hallway was possibly the worst place to break into hysterics. Her back rested against the cold stone wall, comforting her in its sturdiness and cooling the fever which seemed to be burning uncontrollably through her body. The picture of utter defeat and uncertainty, her mind reeled as she sat slumped on the floor. It had taken her months to come to terms with the fact that she would have to be the one facing the archdemon. And when she had finally accepted this reality, she had done so partially because she knew it as her duty, both to Ferelden and to her family – Maker bless their souls – but also because she knew that standing by her side as she faced the gruesome beast would be Alistair; her lover, companion, and friend. 

  
Had her father lived, things would have been so much different. Had Arl Howe not betrayed her family and murdered them all, she would never have met those she now traveled with. But the Arl had shown his true loyalties and had slaughtered all she had ever known and loved without second thought. And by his actions, she had been drawn to Ostagar, to Duncan and the Grey Wardens, and to Alistair. The loss of the battle at Ostagar had come as a heavy blow to them both. For Alistair, he awakened in Flemeth’s hut to find that the only family he had ever known had been torn cruelly away in one simple act of foolish pride and she had been witness to yet another monumental betrayal in which the lives of countless men and women – men and women she had only been privileged enough to call comrades for a few short hours – were handed carelessly over to the encroaching darkspawn horde by the treacherous Teyrn Loghain.

And so, with the death of the King on the battlefield at Ostagar, the Grey Wardens of Ferelden all but annihilated – save for her and Alistair – and the armies scattered, they had come together to complete the seemingly impossible task of raising an army anew from the combined promised forces of the different races across the land. Thank the Maker they had not been alone, or she was certain that their quest would have been lost well before it had truly began. In their travels, they had acquired others to their little band of heroes who had pledged their talents to the cause. First they had been joined by Morrigan, the shape shifting apostate daughter of Flemeth, witch of the Korcari Wilds. From the get go, she and Alistair had locked horns, taking every possibility to engage in the exchange verbal barbs and witty repartee. From Lothering, they had met and become allied with Leliana, a former Orlesian bard and cloistered sister of the Chantry and Sten, a fearsome warrior of the Qunari vanguard. As they continued, they had also obtained the considerable skills of Wynne, a kind and elderly mage of the Circle who’s talent in the healing arts had saved all their lives more times than she cared to count, Zevran, their would-be assassin turned convenient ally, and Oghren, the perpetually inebriated dwarf come topside, bringing with him his fearsome skills on the battlefield.   
 

 It had taken sometime for she and Alistair to establish any sort of a rhythm, either on or off the battlefield, but once they had, they had found that they worked well together, complementing each other almost naturally. On the battlefield, they moved as one being, each one seeming to sense the other’s movements before they made them and shifting their own attacks to collide simultaneously for maximum effect. Her daggers danced, slicing through armour, skin, and bone alike as though they were paper and his shield battered the enemy into submission before mowing them down with a powerful, well-placed stroke from the blade of his mentor, Duncan. Together, they fought, cutting down any number of darkspawn in a fluid whirl of death and mayhem.    
 

Off the battlefield and away from the death and destruction which they seemed to carry like a plague, they had come to bond as well. First, as friends and comrades, she had been there for him when the grief and disappointment had closed in. He, in his turn, comforted her through the loss of her family, stood by her in her sadness and held her close when anxiety and self-doubt threatened to claim her. Then they began their subtle games and flirtatious banter, and it seemed the rest of their traveling party realized what was happening between them before they did. Gradually, they had come to mean so much more to each other, both slowly realizing that one could not do without the other. So much so, in fact, that she had found herself declaring her engagement to him in the presence of all the Teyrns and Teyrnas of the Landsmeet on the same day he rose to the throne of Ferelden.  
 

It had been a spur of the moment action on her part, a desperate and selfish act to keep him beside her. She had been worried when he had not acknowledged her outburst during the Landsmeet. She had been afraid that he may have seen it as an attempt on her part to merely advance her social status from a mere Teyrn’s daughter to Queen. But he hadn’t; she thanked the Maker he hadn’t. He had had been stunned, initially, when they had first had an opportunity to speak after the arguments in the assembly had finished. In truth, she had surprised herself. It had been an insane gamble on her part, but her determination had won out; she refused to leave the man she had come to care so much about for something as trivial as his royal heritage. Their mutual astonishment had been short lived, elation and sheer ecstasy taking hold within moments.  
 

Together, they had done so much and been through so many trials, both large and small. Somehow, by some unfathomable form of destiny (or maybe it was sheer luck), they had seen through them all, alive and (mostly) unscathed. In the few short months she had known him, she had come to love Alistair more than any man she had ever known and he had come to mean far more to her than she had ever known possible. Together, they had experienced a world of ‘firsts’, and what a beautiful world it had been. And now, Riordan just wanted her to throw that all away, as if it were nothing.  
 

One of them had to die. Riordan, the Grey Warden from Orlais, had made that point quite clear, as he had briefed both her and Alistair on the next day's strategy. He had promised them that, as the most senior of the three of them, he would do everything in his power to be the one to slay the ancient demi-god and take on the overwhelming tainted essence that would be the end for one of them. Though she knew, in the deepest part of her, that try as he may, Riordan would fail. The task would fall to either her or Alistair. But she had remained silent as the Orlesian man had continued to outline his plan and when he had finished she had nodded her consent.   
 

What else was she supposed to have done? Should she have panicked and displayed the fear that was running rampant in her mind now for both men and fellow Wardens to see? No, it had been better she remained silent than appear the weak and terrified woman. Though she knew that Alistair didn't see her that way (Maker, the man had admitted she terrified HIM on the battlefield. Whether he was just saying that because it was true or because it was what she wanted to hear, she was unsure) she wasn't as certain of Riordan. No, there was nothing she could have said which could change the way events would play out. It had been best just to stay silent, allowing them all to delude themselves that the plan would work and be of some comfort.  
 

And so she sat on the floor of Arl Eamon's Redcliffe Castle, swamped by misery and anxiety and unable to face going into her chamber. For entering her chamber would make the end that much nearer and morning would be that much closer. Maybe, if she remained in the corridor, she could keep morning at bay and the end of everything she loved would never come.  
 

If only wishing could make it so.   
 

Rising, she resigned herself to a restless night and made her way slowly to the room which the Arl had had prepared for her. At the doorway, she hesitated, thoughtful. If it was going to be the last night, she didn't want to spend it alone. She knew Alistair would be awake for hours yet and it would comfort her some small measure if she could be with him for at least a portion of that time, if only to soothe her frazzled mind and aching heart. She decided she would visit him, but not clad in her armour and battle-garb. It would only take her a moment to change, and then she would go. She already had her armour unbuckled and her breastplate in hand when she opened the door.    
 

Upon entering her room, she was shocked to find Morrigan warming herself before the fire roaring in the hearth, her figure cast into silhouette by the sharp contrasts of light.   
 

“Do not be alarmed; ‘tis only I.”  
 

Closing the door and venturing deeper into the chamber, Reina set down her armour carefully and watched the woman she had slowly and almost reluctantly come to regard as a friend as her pale golden eyes sparkled with the flickering firelight reflected in them.   
 

“What are you doing in my chamber? Is everything alright?”  
 

“I am well. ‘Tis you who are in danger. I only wish to talk. Then you may be on your own to…” she hesitated, a sneer working its way onto her face as she surveyed her leader’s appearance, taking note of the undone clasps on the armour and the missing breastplate. “Do as you wish. ‘Tis no matter to me.”  
 

“So talk,” Reina snapped. Her voice, unusually curt, was due mostly to nerves and stress. And the bright flush Morrigan had managed to bring to her face with her comment didn’t help either. She knew the assumptions she had been jumping to. There was no reason she should have been embarrassed; she and Alistair had been having… relations… for the past several months and the entire camp had been well aware of the situation. And besides, they were engaged. It was completely within their right to – and why did she even care what Morrigan thought anyhow!!  
 

Morrigan smirked at her reaction.  
 

“Very well. I have a plan, you see. A way out. The loop in your hole. I know what happens when the archdemon dies. I know a Grey Warden must be sacrificed. And that sacrifice could be you. I have come to say that this does not need to be. “  
 

“Does not need to be? What do you mean?” She had her attention now. Could there be a possible light at the end of her perpetually dark tunnel?  
 

“I offer a way out. A way out for all the Wardens, so there need be no sacrifice. A ritual… performed on the eve of battle, in the dark of night.”  
 

The line about the ‘way out’ had caught her attention. It was this ‘ritual’ that she was worried about. Also, there was something about her timing…  
 

“Why would you not come forward with this sooner?”  
 

“It was necessary that I wait and be sure. Now I am. Now we speak in private so no others may hear.”  
 

Suspicion raced through her. She did not fully trust Morrigan, especially when she was so forthcoming with the information. Simple facts could sometimes entail more argument to retrieve than they were worth. There was a world of difference between befriending someone and trusting to all their dark talents to save lives. And such a ritual as Morrigan would propose would surely entail some sacrifice of its own, possibly greater than that which she would be trading it for.   
 

“Nothing comes without a price.”  
 

“Perhaps,” Morrigan replied, circling to wander the room as she spoke. “But that price need not be so unbearable, especially when there is much to be gained. All I ask is that you hear what I have to say.”  
 

She halted before a large tapestry at the opposite edge of the room, which depicted in grotesque detail the fall of the Tevinter magi and the creation of the first darkspawn. It was ironic, she thought, that she should be given this room with this particular tapestry. As if she needed any more reminder of what she had sworn to defend against.  
 

“Very well.” Reina replied, reluctant. “Speak your plan.”  
 

Morrigan stood, her dark hair blending with the shadows almost seamlessly. Her eyes, smeared heavily with dark shadow, combined with the glimmering firelight, contorted her features unnaturally and added a certain level of malice to her expression. Gradually, she wound her way back to Reina’s end of the chamber and began to pace before her as she laid out her scheme.  
 

“What I propose is this: Convince Alistair to lay with me. Here, tonight. And from this ritual a child will be conceived. The child will bear the taint and when the archdemon is slain, its essence shall seek the child like a beacon. At this early stage, the child can absorb this essence and not perish. The archdemon is still destroyed, with no Grey Warden dying in the process.”  
 

She was very skeptical now, especially now that Morrigan’s intentions had been revealed. And she had been right about the sacrifice; great though it was, it was not so great as the loss of Alistair’s life. For she knew, that if the moment came, he would not allow her to strike the killing blow.  
 

Reina pondered the Witch’s words. She never offered anything unless she had something to gain in return. And there was much possibility for her to gain where this plan was concerned… Actually, from Morrigan’s point of view, she couldn’t really see a down side… She had her own agenda and it unnerved her. However, the last thing she wanted was to lose the man she loved so soon… And if this…’ritual’… was a way to prevent that from happening… But helping Morrigan to convince Alistair to sire not only another bastard heir to the throne, but a demonic child! Was anything truly worth that?  
 

“So the child becomes a darkspawn?” she asked, voicing her fear.  
 

Morrigan replied calmly, “Not at all. It will become something different: a child, born with the soul of an Old God. After this is done, you allow me to walk away… and you do not follow. Ever. The child will be mine to raise as I wish.”  
 

“But why Alistair? Why not Riordan?”  
 

Morrigan scoffed.   
 

“Even if I thought Riordan could be convinced, he is unsuitable. I need someone who has not been tainted for long – it must be him and it must be tonight.”  
 

Her mind was still racing, trying feverishly to find purchase on what Morrigan was telling her, searching desperately for the loop in her loophole. There had to be some other way! Allowing Morrigan to walk away with a creature of **that **kind of power incubating in her womb… it was unthinkable.  
 

“You actually think Alistair will agree to this?” she asked, trying to sound as confident as Morrigan. She failed when her voice trembled and cracked on the very first word.  
 

“If you care for him as you seem to, you will convince him to. Consider what the alternative might be?”  
 

She already had, and the thought chilled her blood in her veins.  
 

Morrigan sensed this and proceeded to speak her very thoughts aloud. The Witch knew that she had the other woman by the throat, in a sense, and fully intended to use it to her advantage.  
 

“Do you think Alistair will fail to do his duty as the future king and save his country? And if you take the blow instead, he loses the woman he loves. How do you think he would feel about that?”  
 

The emotion in her words was utterly false and layered on like jelly; thick, sticky and overly sweet.  
 

She knew how he would feel, for she knew she would feel the same: lost, empty, and, most frighteningly of all, alone. If she were the one to… she didn’t even want to consider how he would react, though she knew.  
 

Morrigan smirked as she watched the noblewoman’s mind work, knowing her logic would win out in the end.  
 

“I think you have many good reasons to tell him to save his own life. I think you should consider them carefully.”  
 

She thought she had left those thoughts, those…**nightmares **in the corridor. But here they were, haunting her like a bad dream the morning after, only now they had painfully come to reality.  
 

“Wait… I want to know more about this child.”  
 

“As you wish,” Morrigan replied complacently. Her complacence was only due, Reina knew, to the fact that she believed she was about to finally obtain something she desperately sought. Morrigan was never one to do anything without thought of personal gain.  
 

“Will the child be evil? What will it become?”  
 

“Allow me to say that what I seek is the essence of the Old God that once was and not the dark forces that corrupted it. Some things are worth preserving in this world. Make of that what you will.”  
 

“The child won’t be hurt, will it?”  
 

“Ignoring that but after one night it could barely be called a child… no, it will not be hurt. It will be changed.”  
 

“What do you intend to do with this child?”  
 

She didn’t even want to **begin **to imagine the devious plans Morrigan could devise with something so powerful at her virtual command.  
 

“I do not wish to tell you.”  
 

Of course she didn’t. But if Reina was going to convince Alistair to go through with this, she wanted all the details first. “I insist. I need to know what you plan.”  
 

If it was something sinister; and knowing Morrigan like she did, she had no doubt of this, she wanted to know what the woman had planned, if only so she herself could at least attempt to make plans for the future.  
 

“The child will represent freedom for an ancient power; a chance to be reborn apart from the taint. Is that not reason enough to do it? I will raise the child apart from the rest of society and teach it to respect that from which it came. Beyond that, you need know nothing else.”  
 

Though it wrenched at her, she knew that her fiancé’s sense of family would compel him to wish to see the… thing… he fathered.  
 

“And what if Alistair wants to see the child.”  
 

“I have no doubt he may. But he will not. It is all I ask for in return.”  
 

“I see,” Reina mused. “Enough about the child then.”  
 

“Then you have decided?” Morrigan’s voice took on an edge of excitement Reina had rarely heard there before. And, though she felt she was selling her soul and that of her loved one to a power greater than that of the devil, she voiced her consent.   
 

“All right, I agree. I’ll do it.”  
 

“A wise decision.” Morrigan replied, her tone smug. “I shall wait here, then, while you go and speak with Alistair. I urge you do be convincing.”  
 

And with that, she turned back to the fire.  
 

Back in the corridor, Reina tried to think, tried to consider. How was she supposed to ask this of him? Worse, that she was in agreement with this plan to have another woman sleep with her betrothed. But if it prevented their death; more importantly, his death… Was this one case when the ends really justified the means? She must have thought so, because seconds later, she found herself at his door, her shaking hand knocking softly on the sturdy oak.  
 

“Come in,” he called out.  
 

She entered to find him sitting on the edge of his bed, bent over, his elbows on his knees; a pose that depicted just how much strain he was currently under. Maker, but the sight of him always seemed to stir something in her… It was one thing to lead her into battle; that, she had done before with little challenge. It was quite another for him to not only be crowned leader of a nation, but to then order them to war mere hours after taking on such responsibility… And with what she was about to ask him…   
 

Rising to greet her, he managed a half smile and, noticing her absence of armour, said slyly, “I see you can’t sleep either. Did you have something in mind?”  
 

‘Well, I did. Before Morrigan ruined all hope of that,’ she thought darkly before replying with a weak grin.  
 

“Not really, no. Just more comfortable like this.”  
 

He smirked. “Whatever you say, my love. Oh, I also saw Morrigan outside your room earlier. And the look she gave me… that was icy, even for her. Is something up?”  
 

She squirmed on the spot, wringing her hands, unsure of how to begin. How was she supposed to even lead up to asking him this?  
 

“Um… Alistair? We need to talk.”  
 

He moved towards her, his face serious.   
 

“Oh. I guess whatever Morrigan had to say, it’s big. This is what I get for becoming king: Everyone always bringing you the bad news,” he joked, leaning casually against the bedpost. “Well, what is it? Rats running amok? Cheese supplies run low? You can tell me, I can take it.”  
 

She fought back a grin, though her mouth betrayed her by twitching at the corners. He could always put a smile on her face, no matter the situation. That was one thing she loved so much about him. It helped her feel more at ease when the awkward moments arose.  
 

“You know I love you, right?”  
 

His crooked smile remained in place as he chuckled, “Can you make it sound any more ominous? Tell me already!”  
 

She smiled, hoping to put him at ease, though it took great effort on her part and it showed. Sidling up to them, she wrapped her arms around his waist and eased him close, her eyes locked on his. Habitually, his hands found their place as well; one on her hip and the other resting just below her jaw line.  
 

“So, come on. Tell me.”  
 

Hesitating for just a second, her gaze drifted away from his and her smile faltered considerably. She wasn’t as good at delivering her lines with a straight face as he was.  
 

“Surprise! Your wildest dreams come true: Sex with Morrigan!”  
 

Pulling away just slightly, he stared at her for a moment, not exactly sure what to make of her comment. Maybe she had taken more of a hit than he thought in the ‘little conflict’ that had occurred in the Landsmeet?  
 

“Ha-ha! All right, that’s pretty funny. Nice way to cut the tension. So. What’s really up?”  
 

Reina sighed. Okay, so humour was out. She would have to settle for bluntness; something he would hopefully respond better to than her attempt at humour.   
 

“Alistair… I… I need you to sleep with Morrigan.”  
 

“Ha-ha, cute. This is payback, right? For all the jokes?”  
 

‘_Yes_,’ she thought sarcastically, her brain inventing a smart retort before she could stop it. _‘I’m paying you back for all your jokes, all the times you made me laugh hysterically, by trying to save your life. It’s brilliant. Really._’  
 

Outwardly, she sent him a pleading gaze, her brilliant blue eyes begging him to understand. Seeing her face, the pain and anxiety in her eyes, he sobered immediately, pulling away from her entirely to pace the room.  
 

“But… You’re not joking… Are you? You’re actually serious? Killed by the archdemon, or sleep with Morrigan… How does someone make that kind of choice? You’re not… actually asking me this, are you? What kind of ritual is this?”  
 

She closed her eyes and swallowed. Though she hated lying to him, there were things she just couldn’t tell him and expect him to understand. Opening them, she stared into his eyes; twin pools of warm, unending tawny she lost herself in every time their eyes locked. ‘Maker, I wish there was another way. Why this?’  
 

“I –” she clenched her eyes shut again, struggling for the words. “It’s some kind of ancient magic. Flemeth’s, probably.”  
 

He rolled his eyes and turned away from her, unconvinced by her explanation. Not that she had really expected him to accept that answer anyhow. It was the best she could give him right now. Some secrets needed to be kept.  
 

“Oh, well, that’s reassuring. Wait, no it isn’t.”  
 

Rubbing the back of his neck in frustration, he settled again on the bed, and she moved in to seat herself beside him. She could see his mind was reeling, trying to understand what she was asking of him; trying to puzzle out **why **she was asking it of him…  
 

“Look, even if I was willing to entertain this idea – and I’m not saying that I am – is this **really **what you want me to do? Are you **sure**?”   
 

‘_No, I’m not sure! I hate this idea! But… If it keeps you alive… I’ll agree. If it keeps you alive, I’ll agree to anything. Not a particularly desirable trait in a queen, but, well…_’  
 

Her gaze, full of love, never wavered from his.  
 

“You need to trust me.”  
 

He sighed, confused. His better judgments and instincts screamed at him that this was not a good idea, yet he trusted her, as he had no other. He knew she would never ask him to do something like this lightly; to ignore all they had built steadily together for one night with a… a… **creature **whom he considered as close to a nemesis as he had ever known (the impending Blight and archdemon not included). She might not have been ready to explain it now, and for tonight, he would settle with that. But when things were settled, they would talk. And there would be an explanation, in full.  
 

“I **do **trust you. If this is what you think is best… I’ll do it,” he groaned, rubbing the back of his neck yet again. “Ugh… where is she? Let’s go and get this over with before I… change my mind.”  
 

She hugged him tightly, her gratitude overflowing into her vise-like embrace.  
 

Together, they walked back into the corridor, which seemed to grow colder each time she entered it. Hand in hand, they approached the door, took one last look deep into each other’s eyes, and entered.  
 

Morrigan, upon hearing the door, turned to face them, her shadowed visage managing to conceal her excitement and anticipation. So close now…  
 

“ ‘Twould seem your talk is done?”  
 

“Greeeat. So this isn’t a dream after all,” Alistair groaned, voicing his displeasure. Ignoring him as usual, Morrigan continued.  
 

“What is it to be, then? Has a decision been reached?”  
 

She was angry, angry that it had come to this. Angry that for Morrigan, this was all just a means to her end, a game she played in which they were here pawns. She suspected now that they had been so from the very beginning. But in her anger, there was desperation, which drove her to seek any means necessary, even if those means were distasteful. Grudgingly, she replied.  
 

“Alistair has agreed to your… **request**.”  
 

“You know, dinner would have been nice, maybe a bit of wine? Or… you could just knock me out first…”  
 

Reina’s mouth flickered with the ghost of a smile as he tried one last time to back out. Someday, she would explain it to him. Why all the deception and secrecy had been necessary. It was doubtful she would ever be able to convince him to believe it fully, but it was his life that was at stake, and for that, she would risk anything. Even a deal with the devil.  
 

“Tempting. Still, I am glad to see that it has been done,” Morrigan said, responding off-handedly to his comment, as was her custom when dealing with the man she had deemed a fool from the start.  
 

She turned to Alistair, her voice alluring. A wave of jealousy washed over Reina before she could suppress it. She kept forgetting: she had agreed to this…  
 

“Let us go somewhere more… private, Alistair. And believe me, when I say you will not hate this **quite **so much as you believe.”  
 

She watched them go, her emotions getting the better of her at long last as her eyes flooded with tears of frustration, jealousy, love, and a myriad of other sentiments she couldn’t even begin to label. She would hold it in though. She would be strong. At least until they left the room and she could breakdown without the intrusion of prying eyes.  
 

As they turned to leave, Alistair risked one last glance back at his fiancée, standing almost helplessly in the middle of the room, the firelight glimmering on her fiery red hair and adding a soft glow to her already pale skin. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but her unbelievably radiant blue eyes sparkled more brightly tonight than he remembered before and he was certain, as he turned back, her hand slid up to her cheek to brush away what could only have been a tear. Eyes clenched tight, he bit his lip and prayed it was just the light.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short scene with the Royal family before exploring more memories.

  
Raising her mind from the deep reaches of the Fade - the dream world where memories could haunt just as easily as the imagination - a tiny voice crept in, eroding at her dream.

"Mama... Mama... Mama..." the small voice whispered, tickling her ears and impatiently prodding her shoulder with each repetition of the word. Groaning, she swatted at the hand and rolled over. What could the child possibly need at this hour? Surely, the sun hadn't even begun to think of rising yet...

"Mama... Mama... Are you awake?" the voice persisted, now a more urgent whisper.

'Well, I am now,' she thought grumpily.

"Mhmm... Ayla, sweet, go back to bed... Please..." she managed, her voice slurred by sleep. Beside her, she felt her husband shift as he gradually came into semi-consciousness. Of the two of them, he had always been the lighter sleeper and required less of it to function than she; a ten minute power-nap and he was good to go for hours. Lucky bastard...

"Nnn... What is it, love? Something wrong?" Alistair asked, his voice thick with slumber.  
She muttered something, most of which was incoherent grumbling as far as he could tell.

"What?"

The grumbling continued, and this time he was able to make out the phrases "out of bed at such an unholy hour" and "should just lock the door" before she was able to manage a single coherent word:

"... Ayla..."

"Ayla? What's she doing up?"

Burying her face in her pillow, Reina groaned, letting out her breath in a huff and tried to pull the large quilt higher over her head. Maybe if they couldn't see her, they'd all get the hint and stop asking her questions and just let her slip quietly back to sleep...

"Uhdunno. Yewasker," she mumbled to her pillow.

"Mama?"

"Maker have mercy! What is it, Ayla?" she hissed, throwing back the quilt in frustration and taking her daughter by surprise. Seeing her daughter's shocked expression and the fear in her eyes she softened slightly. "Honey? What is it? Why aren't you asleep?" Like any normal child, she refrained from adding, her patience stretched transparently thin this early.

Next to her, Alistair propped himself up on his side, watching. It took immense effort for Reina to restrain herself from simply flopping back into her pillow and allowing him to handle the entire situation; whatever it was.

'You're still her mother' she thought. 'No matter what time of the morning it is...'

"Darling," she began, trying hard to focus on her daughter. "Why are you out of bed?"

The child gripped her arm firmly with both hands, surprising her with such a vise-like grasp for such a small girl. "Monsters, Mama! Under my bed and in the wardrobe! Meriam checked and says she would never let the monsters in, but they're there, Mama! I know they are!"

Meriam, the child's elven maid and bodyguard, was a friend of the family as well as a former bard who now dedicated her talents to preventing deaths instead of causing them. However, she would say anything she had to say to get the child to go back to sleep. Just as Reina would love to be able to now. Sighing, she leaned over the side of the bed and pulled her daughter close, stroking her head consolingly.

"Darling, if Meriam says there are no monsters, then there aren't any-"

"But I saw them, Mama!" the little girl burst out, her brilliant blue eyes filling with tears from a combination of her mother's doubt and her own fear. "Papa! I did see them!" she insisted, seeing her father awake and turning to him for help. She then proceeded to clamber onto the bed and scramble over her mother to him.

Biting back a yelp of pain as her daughter's flying heels caught her in the small of the back, Reina watched as her husband pulled their daughter close and began to toy with her mess of blonde hair fondly.

"Monsters? In your bedroom? Never! Why, they wouldn't dare!"

"They did, Papa! They dared!"

"They didn't! But you know what?"

"What?" she answered eagerly, fear forgotten as she was caught up in her father's game.

"I bet they were so scared of you, a terrifiying little Warrior Princess, just like your Mama," he winked at his wife, who responded by smiling and rolling her eyes. "That they just scampered back off down to the Deep Roads or slithered back to the Fade, blubbering to their masters like babies!" he finished, tickling his daughter and listening to her giggle and squeal with delight.

"Heehee! Yeah, they blubbered, Papa. I kicked 'em and I beat 'em and they blubbered a lot! Yelling 'Help, help! Save us! Aaah!'"

"That's my girl!" Alistair encouraged, tousling her hair affectionately, adding to the tangles she had already scampered out of bed with. "Sent 'em packing, did you? Good for you!"

Ayla beamed, all signs of terror vanishing with her father's praise.

"Uh-huh! I did, Papa, I did! But..." her smile became sheepish as she hugged him tightly. "Could you come check anyways?"

Sighing dramatically, he made a show of pondering the question.

"Ah... I don't know, sweet. If there's any left... these are my good pajamas, and you know," he lowered his voice to a loud whisper, "your mother would have me for breakfast if I got them covered in monster yuck. Just think: she would have to sleep next to me, all covered in monster yuck. She wouldn't like that at all."

Behind her daughter's back, Reina rolled her eyes once more and had to put a hand to her lips to restrain herself from laughing and giving away the game. However, Ayla's reply demanded she speak.

"So? Mama won't mind."

"Oh, I think I will!" Reina interjected. "I most certainly do not want to be in bed with someone covered in monster yuck!"

"See, honey? Mama says 'no.'"

Appalled, Ayla watched as her father slipped back beneath the covers and pretended to go back to sleep.

"But! Papa! Come on!" she pleaded, poking him sharply in the back of the head. When this elicited no response, she turned on her mother. Even in the darkness of the room, the puppy-dog stare she fixed her with was potent, especially when combined with her tried and true begging technique.

"Ma-maaa! Ple-ease? Please let Papa come check? He won't get no monster yuck on him! I promise."

She smiled sleepily, relenting to her daughter's unbelievably adorable expression.  
"I suppose. But no monster yuck!"

Face solemn, Ayla held up her hand in imitation of the many knights she had watched swear fealty to her father. "Promise!"

With that, she turned around and began to shake her father wildly and Reina was certain she could hear his teeth rattling.

"Papa! Papa! Mama said yes! But I gots to keep you safe from monster yuck, so let's go! Come on, Papa!"

Slowly rising from beneath what he had foolishly assumed to be the relative safety of the covers, Alistair pulled his daughter close and looked her in the eye, his stern gaze holding hers.

"Ayla, sweet, if you want Papa to be able to check for monsters, you have to make sure not to rattle him around so much his eyeballs pop out."

Sudden panic crossed the little girl's face.

"Did one of your eyeballs pop out, Papa?"

Sighing, he smiled and shook his head. His wit was lost on this child sometimes.

"No, Ayla. Papa still has both his eyeballs."

"Good!" She beamed again and kissed her father quickly on the cheek. Scrambling free of his arms, she climbed over his body and bounced off the bed, ignoring his sudden gasps as she accidentally kneed him between the legs in her excitement.

Next to him, Reina was beside herself with laughter. Although she was still immensely tired, it was almost worth it for the entertainment her daughter was obliviously providing.

"Shut up," Alistair gasped. "You have no idea..."

Drawing herself closer to him, she patted his cheek gently and smirked.

"Oh, you are so right. I haven't the slightest. Why don't you tell me?"

"Shut. Up."

Smiling, she kissed him softly on his frowning mouth.

"I love you."

From the door of their bed chamber, Ayla called out to her father.

"Papa, come on!"

Wrapping her arms around him, she pressed her body against his and kissed him again, adding more of an edge this time. She purred when he picked up on her hint and deepened the kiss. She felt the tension begin to melt out of him as her hands slithered under his tunic to massage along the muscular planes of his back. She felt rather than heard a low groan of pleasure building in his chest and began to nibble lightly on his lower lip as they continued to embrace.

Another echoing shout from the corridor which, Reina was certain, could have awakened the Orlesian emperor, interrupted their moment.

"Papa!"

Releasing him, she rested her forehead on his, her voice breathy as she tried to focus on words.

"Sounds like someone's waiting for you."

"Let her wait." Pulling her back into him, he kissed her again.

"Pa-paaa!"

Sighing, he broke away, and gingerly, rolled out of the bed. Standing beside her, he kissed her once more and whispered, "Be back in a bit, my dear. Have to go slay some monsters."

She smiled and reached up to cup his face in her hand, a glint in her eye and an edge to her voice. "I'll be waiting right here to... celebrate your certain victory."

A slow, eager smile spread across his face.

"In that case, I'd best hurry, hadn't I?"

"Yes, I think you'd best. Don't make me have to send out a search party." Rubbing her thumb against the stubble on his cheek, she kissed him once more and released him. He would be back soon enough... "Go on. Your monsters await you."

Pulling himself away, Alistair limped to the door where Ayla clasped his hand tightly and began to pull.

Just before he was dragged out of sight, Reina called out to him.

"Hey!"

Halting his daughter's progress, his head popped back into the room.

"Yes?"

Narrowing her eyes and staring pointedly at her husband, a slight smile danced around the corners of her mouth as she replied, "No monster yuck."

Grinning, he winked at her and disappeared from sight, his voice trailing down the corridor behind him.

"No monster yuck!"

As their voices faded into the distance, Reina settled herself back beneath the pile of blankets, hoping to catch a few moments of sleep before Alistair returned and they 'celebrated his imminent triumph over the monsters of their daughter's imagination. Her eyes were closed, but her mind refused to relax. It kept circling back to the memory that had surfaced in the dream she had been experiencing before Ayla had interrupted.

She remembered that night, and it still made her shudder. It had been the worst night of her life, followed closely by the night Castle Cousland had fallen. She had already been wracked with so much anxiety before Riordan's news. The Orlesian man had fallen - literally- in battle the next day as he had attempted to slay the massive archdemon as it commanded its armies of darkspawn from the skies above Denerim. She had known the battle would be long and hard, but she had prepared herself for that. That was part of the task she had undertaken and part of her calling as a Grey Warden. She had not prepared herself for the feelings she had grown to feel for her fellow or for the news that one of them would have to die. It had shaken her to her core and when Morrigan had offered a way to prevent it all from happening, she had been suspicious but desperate to accept what she'd had to offer.

The next day, she had tried to put the entire situation from her mind. Morning had come early and had been more than awkward between her and Alistair. Never before had she actually avoided meeting his eyes and she found herself making excuses to be anywhere but where he was. It had made her feel childish, running from him like that. Maker, she had been about to face an entire horde of darkspawn creatures and take on their archdemon, and she was fleeing from the man she loved. He had allowed her behavior to continue whilst preparations were made, right up until they marched against Denerim. As the masses of their army had marched on, he had cornered her, refusing to release her until they had spoken. Though many aspects of that day were a blur to her, the conversation they'd had still came back to her as if it had just ended.

* * *

  
_The morning was misty and held a chill which warned gently of the winter to come. Tension filled the air and even the trees seemed to quiver in anticipation as the final battle approached. Columns of warriors of all walks of life marched; men, dwarves, elves, and mages alike, all falling in with the cadence which called out double-time, but moving faster in the hope that they would be in time to save their brethren besieged in the capital city._

_At the head of the column, Reina Cousland marched, leading the masses to battle. Beside her, keeping pace flawlessly was Alistair. She had tried her hardest to position herself away from him, the previous night still fresh in her mind, but he had wound his way through the throngs of soldiers until he was at her side._

_She had spent the night sleepless, nerves eating her raw and doubt clawing crazily at her mind. Her short, fiery red hair was messy and tangled. Dark circles hung heavy under blue eyes dull from lack of sleep. She had wished he had been there with her last night, to chase her doubts away and lay her anxiety to ease, but he wasn't. She had made her choice, and because of it, he had spent the night in the arms of another woman. Despite Morrigan's claims, there was still the chance that one or both of them could fall to another's blade and what could be their last night together they had spent apart._

_Denerim was only a few short hours away now and he wouldn't let her alone any longer. When the troops were halted for a short rest, he pulled her aside into a small cluster of forrest just off the road. Apart from the rest, it was so much quieter; no orders were called out, idle chatter was silenced and whispers of fear had disappeared completely. Away from army, they were silent, an awkwardness building between them that had never been there before. She wondered if it was secrets that had that effect on a couple._

_For a few moments they stood amongst the trees, wordless and unsure of what to say or how to break the tension. She watched him as he paced, his back to her. His short blonde hair was messy as always, sticking up in the front and his body was tight and anxious and she knew he would have knots of tension built in his shoulders. His dragonbone armour was polished to a mirror-like finish and, even in the bare light of dawn and the shadows of the trees, it glimmered brightly. She couldn't even begin to fathom what was racing through his mind at this point, but she had a feeling it was more questions than she felt like answering._

_Finally, he turned to her and spoke, his voice raspy and his hands shaking. She had only seen him this nervous once before._

_"Reina... listen... about last night...I... I think we should talk about -"_

_She cut him off. She didn't want to have this conversation, not now._

_"There's no need, Alistair. It's done."_

_He gaped at her, his temper rising as she tried to push him away again. He wasn't having any of it._

_"Um, I'm sorry? No need?! I just spent last night with Morrigan. Morrigan. You remember her, don't you? Creepy, evil, bitchy, conniving, swamp witch?"_

_"No, I completely forgot." she snapped, her temper rising to meet his. "She's only been with us for slightly less time than you have! Oh, and that's right! She just convinced me to talk my future husband into sleeping with her last night! How could I possibly have time to remember her?"_

_"Oh, I'm so glad your memory works then! Because, I thought, last night being possibly our last night on earth, I would spend it with you! Instead, you come into my room and convince me to sleep with her as some sort of ancient magical sex rite - a rite, which, might I add, I'm not even allowed to know about!!"_

_"You don't always have to know everything! If I recall, you had some pretty hefty secrets of your own... **your majesty**," she hissed, regretting her words almost the instant they left her mouth._

_His face changed in an instant, pent up anger and frustration dissipating as an expression of abject hurt dominated his features._

_It had been hard enough for him to tell her that he was the bastard brother of the last king and here she was, just throwing that one example of his unwillingness to trust her back in his face harshly._

_She turned away quickly, making to leave. She didn’t want to see his face right now and was more than eager to bring this argument to a swift end._

_Before she had gone two steps, however, his hand reached out and grabbed her arm, holding her in place. His voice, when he spoke was unnaturally calm and his tawny eyes were as hard and sharp as flint._

_"I may not always appear to be the most intelligent man or be able to best our resident apostate at her own word games, but I'm not stupid. And you know I trust you, otherwise last night would have gone completely differently, so I don't appreciate you trying to make this about me. I know there are rules, just like in anything, of things you do and don't do in a relationship. Lying is definitely not one of the things that's acceptable. I went along with what you asked because you asked. Because I trusted you and your word that it was important enough that you would ask the unthinkable. But don't try to stand there and make this my fault. You've been hiding from me all morning - yes, I figured that much out," he said, as her gaze shifted guiltily. "And I want to know why. What did you think I was going to do? Decide I suddenly want to be with Morrigan?"_

_Her eyes dropped to her feet. She couldn't look at him right now. It was insane and she knew it wasn't even remotely possible, but it had been a thought that continuously floated into her mind all night. After all, with someone else, it was more than possible that he could have a family. With her, that chance was very slim indeed._

_Seeing this, he balked. He couldn't believe that something like that would even cross her mind! Pulling her into him, he held her tight, stroking her back and whispering into her short red hair._

_"What would ever happen to make you think that? I love you. You know that. You think I would leave you, the most beautiful and ferocious woman in all of Ferelden for anyone?" She smiled weakly, as he chuckled softly and kissed her gently._

_"Besides, I'd be afraid of what you'd do to me if I did suddenly lose my mind and leave."_

_She laughed, a sudden unexpected burst of air breaking free from her chest and kissed him back, glad that there were some nightmares that remained only that._

_"So tell me, and don't brush me off again: Why did I sleep with her last night and not you?"_

_She pulled apart from him and, for the first time since the previous night, she looked him in the eye and held his gaze. She saw a man strained so far to his point it was a wonder he didn't snap. Dark bags hung beneath tawny eyes red and bloodshot on a face that was scruffier than normal. She didn't want to tell him what he wanted to know and now wasn't the best time for long explanations, but she could give him something, at least part of the reason for why she had asked him to do what he had done._

_'Because I'm selfish,' she thought. 'Wynne was right; love ultimately is selfish. And I made my choice.'_

_Gently, she reached up and cupped his face in her hand, his skin warm and stubble bristling her fingers. He leaned into the touch. This was what he had been missing last night... The evening with Morrigan had left him physically satisfied but emotionally empty. With her, he had just been going through the motions, and had felt, if anything, more drained when she had left his room in the small hours of the morning than he had before Reina had approached him with the whole crazy idea._

_After Morrigan had left his room, he had caught a stray servant in the hallway. Despite the late hour, he had instructed a bath drawn. He had felt dirty and had needed to wash her off of him. No matter how much soap he had used or how hard he had scrubbed he had still felt… soiled. As if a coating of slime covered his entire body. And when Reina touched him now, holding gently to his cheek, he felt a clash of emotions. On one hand, she assuaged some of his guilt with her contact, but on the other he felt that she shouldn’t want to touch him. Surely she would feel the slime and would be repulsed by it. But she didn’t remove her hand. Instead, her fingers caressed his face and maintained their connection to him. And in that single action washed away all his worries._

_"Alistair, there are two things in this world I would do anything - and I mean anything - to protect: you and Ferelden. Last night, I was protecting both of those things, one more so than the other. It was a strange and twisted way to do so, but it was to preserve what I love most. I... I don't want to lose you. To anything."_

_His face softened and he stepped close to her to embrace her tightly once more. His arms formed an impenetrable fortress around her and for just a moment, she felt as if nothing could touch her there, not entirety of the darkspawn horde or the massive archdemon. Dipping his head to hers, he whispered softly in her ear, his voice throaty with emotion._

_"And I don't want to lose you either. So don't do anything stupid and heroic." He felt her smile against him and heard the soft huff of a laugh. "I'll be right by your side, always. I promise."_

_His words comforted her and she snuggled deeper into his arms. They both wished the moment would never end, but in the distance a horn sounded, signaling the march once again. Separating, they walked back to their troops together, the long, forced march to Denerim resuming once more._

* * *

It had been so long ago and there were some things, small details she had since forgotten. And others that would have been better to remain forgotten. The room seemed bigger to her suddenly, emptier. The very walls even seemed to echo his absence in the stone. In the darkness of the bedroom, her memories haunted her while she drifted between wakefulness and the Fade and waited for his return.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leagues away from the pressing monster troubles of the Royal family, a hunt continues as a young sorceress makes her escape.

Far across the Ferelden countryside, worlds away from the trivial monster troubles of the Royal family, a young man huddled close to a dying fire, his body wrapped tightly in his thick traveling cloak in an attempt to stave off the encroaching chill of dawn and beat back the more constant icy teeth of early winter. Held tightly in his hands were a pair of Dar'Misaan, elven long swords, the exposed handles and worn filigree of the scabbards glinting in the sputtering firelight. Beside him, a large she-wolf snuffled in her sleep. Her body was curled up close to his, her thick coat and very presence lending him unbelievable amounts of heat.

A short ways off, a blanket was thrown over a low hanging tree branch and served as some shelter, offering a warm bedroll and thick blanket to any who would take advantage of such. Tonight, the tent sat empty, however, save for the few belongings piled just inside. Its owner preferred the vantage point of the outdoors to comfort on this particular night.

The hunt had been good that day, and not just for food. Scattered about the small campsite like fallen leaves were the various bodies and limbs of a mixture of hurlocks, genlocks, and blight wolves, their corpses in various states of dismemberment and mutilation. The area was rank with death and amidst it all the man slept close to a dwindling fire and empty stew pot, his mind ever alert, even as his body rested. Head lowered in repose, his dark brown hair flopped carelessly over his strong brow and framed a rugged, unshaven face full of sharp planes and angles.

At the sound of an unknown creature approaching far in the distance, the wolf's head lifted, bright yellow eyes opening to scan her surroundings, and her body shifting into a crouch in preparation for possible trouble. As if in sync with his canine companion, the man's deep-set eyes flashed open, revealing a pair of steely orbs the colour of an angry thunderhead. Rising, he unsheathed one of the Dar'Misaan, and belted the other securely across his body. Something was approaching, something more formidable than wild game, and he would be ready.

"Senses sharp, Alora. The real game approaches," the man muttered to the large canine. The great beast huffed her acknowledgment and bobbed her head knowingly. She was more than ready, eager even, for a chance to stretch her muscles and sharpen her claws for a second time since the sun had set.

Around the campsite, the air was still and silent. The forest spoke nary a word, whispered not a sound. For several long moments the pair stood tensed beside the dying campfire, waiting for their adversary to make itself known. Alora cocked her head to the side, her ears alert. The man noticed and strained his own hearing. Just at the edge of his ability to perceive, a low thudding could be heard drawing nearer to their position, growing louder as it did so. As it advanced towards them, they felt the ground shudder with each step the creature took.

With a snapping of branches, crunching of foliage and uprooting of small trees, a monstrous ogre burst through the cluster of oaks in front of them, halting and roaring its displeasure and rage to the predawn sky, waves of saliva raining down in the wake of it's outburst. This was the true prize, the creature they had killed all the others to reach.

Moving quickly, the wolf and her man leapt over their pile of glowing embers, charging the massive beast. Just before they plowed head on into the awaiting claws and dripping fangs, the pair swerved in opposite directions around the monster. The man lashed out with his Dar'Misaan as he sprinted past, his blades dripping with a bright, greenish liquid and slicing skillfully at the creature's legs in an effort to cripple it, the poison coating the blades hissing as it made contact with it's thick hide. The wolf snarled menacingly, and ignoring the ogre's own bellows of pain, leaped upon the creature's back, her teeth and claws taking hold and tearing the muscles and sinews to shreds.

The ogre howled and stumbled about, swatting at the wolf eating through the tissue of its shoulder. While the great wolf gnawed and tore at the creature, the man circled back around to it's front, and getting a running start, leapt onto the ogre's chest. Using his swords as a mountaineer would use climbing spikes, he buried the blades deep several times, stabbing furiously, before slashing swiftly across the great darkspawn's gullet. The roar that had been building in the back of the ogre's throat came out as little more than a pathetic gurgle as blood showered in great spurts and it's body toppled clumsily backwards in defeat. The man kicked off from its chest, landing with cat-like grace on the ground in the pools of blood both fresh and hours old.

The body of their would be attacker twitching in the throes of death, Alora trotted gamely back to her master, her thick grey coat mottled by the blood and gore of the ogre which now lay dead before them. The man stood, panting, covered in death and flicked his blades smartly to remove the lingering carnage before sheathing them and walking back to his place by the embers. Adding an extra log, he stoked the fire back to life as he settled in once again. Stroking the wolf's great head, he wrapped his cloak tightly against his body once again and mumbled softly to her, his own eyes drifting closed.

“Well done, Alora. Our job is done this night.”

The wolf snuffled happily, snuggling closer to him and closing her own yellow eyes once more.

* * *

A small distance off, walking slowly through the thick woods, a young woman dressed in little more than rags carried a staff crafted of a dark, gnarled and twisted wood, bead charms, feathers and animal teeth dangling from it's length. As she walked, she chattered peacefully with her companion, her voice ringing out loudly in the silence of the wood. Fastened about the woman's throat, a thick, maroon cloak lined with dark grey fur shielded her from the chill of the early dawn and the more vicious bite of the new winter whilst the large man beside her appeared to be content to wander about barefoot, clothed in only a thin tunic and trousers.

"So, tell me, Arzul: Have you the slightest idea where you're leading us to or are you just guessing and hoping something suddenly appears in our path that provides some sort of entertainment?"

"I was always under the impression you were leading, child. I follow wherever you go."

The woman sighed, flicking her long blonde hair in exasperation. Beads strung randomly throughout her locks clicked and jangled with her motion. "Arzul, if you continue following me, we'll end up back in Antiva, and that's the last place we need to be right now."

"You don't miss it?"

“Miss what?”

“Your home, Aelyn.”

She scoffed, “I have had many ‘homes,’ Arzul. You’ll have to be more specific.”

The man smirked and rolled his eyes.

“The most recent, then. Don’t you miss it? You seemed quite… happy there.”

Aeyln tossed her head and turned away from him, focusing instead on a suddenly very interesting pile of herbs clustered at her feet.

"What's to miss? We lived in a swamp. Not exactly ideal scenery," she replied off-handedly.

Arzul frowned. "Aelyn. You didn't always live in the swamp. Don't you miss any of it? Your mother?"

She stopped, and her eyes, an unusual hue of bright gold and carmine smeared with dark shadow, flashed angrily. "Hardly. She's the reason we left. Remember? It was either stay and be enslaved by her and her... sorcery," she scowled at the thought. "Or we could do what we did, which was to hex the bitch as she slept and leave to seek our own way. We didn't really have a choice."

"You say that as if you need justification for your actions."

"I don't need justification for anything," Aelyn snapped. "I did what I had to do in order to survive. And it just so happens survival brought us here, to this... this... frozen wasteland. It reminds me of those wretched mountains we lived in when I was very small." She frowned and glanced around wistfully. "The Kin have a cruel sense of humour."

Arzul chuckled softly and fell into step beside her. "Aye. That they do."

"So. Where shall our wandering feet carry us to, Arzul?"

"Wherever you wish, child."

Aelyn growled. "Stop talking me in circles and answer my question."

The man was pensive for a moment, contemplating.

"If you recall, there was an old hut your mother spoke of a few times, in the Wilds where she was raised. She dared not return to the spot –"

"Out of some foolish superstition of a spirit, yes, I remember. Then that is where we should go. That's the last place she'll think to find us, once she finally manages to free herself, that is. Where was it exactly?"

"Just to the south of an ancient fortress once owned by the Grey Wardens, deep in the Korcari Wilds. With enough searching I'm certain we'll stumble across it eventually."

The woman smirked, satisfied. "Perfect. Arzul, my love, you're absolutely brilliant."

* * *

In the Royal Palace of Denerim, King Alistair Theirin strode quickly through the cold hallways of his vast home, eager to return to his waiting wife and their massive, warm bed covered in piles of thick furs and blankets.

His daughter, Ayla, the jewel of his heart, was settled once again back into her bed, permitting the rest of the castle a small measure of peace. After borrowing a sword from one of the corridor guards and swishing it around menacingly under the bed and in the armoire, Ayla had been satisfied that her father had completely annihilated any and all possible monster threats; he had been allowed to leave. He had probably torn through a few of the child's garments when he had flailed the blade about in the armoire, now he thought of it, and Meriam would certainly have his head when she discovered the damage. He swore the elf had studied under Wynne, for to learn how to chastise someone so soundly was certainly a skill that was taught and not bred.

Returning to his own chamber at what seemed like long last, he slid beneath the blankets quietly, trying not to disturb his wife, who apparently had returned to sleep in his absence. It was rare for her to have a night pass in which dreams and nightmares didn't torment her slumber.

Tonight was no different. He returned to find her tossing restlessly and mumbling in her sleep, haunted by the nightmares again. Since the last Blight had ended, his dreams had lessened severely, though there were still nights when they were both awakened by the menacing snarls of darkspawn, terrorizing and killing in their dreams. Hers, however, remained a stain upon her nightly rest and sometimes awakened her quite violently. Crawling closer to her, he took hold of her, cradling her in his arms and whispering soothing words until she calmed, her eyelids fluttering open as the dream released her.

"Shh... Hey, it's okay. Hush now. Nothing will get you here."

In response she curled into him, seeking the safety he offered.

He said nothing; merely gazing at her for a moment, and even after twenty years was still marveled by her beauty. Skin, pale and soft as moonlight, was the foundation for a face unlike any he had ever seen. Lips the shade of a winter rose moved wordlessly and eyes a fantastic, almost electric, blue that sparkled even in the darkness. Silently, he used one hand to stroke her hair, a vibrant, fiery crimson streaked through with strands of silver, still styled the same way it had been when they had first met. Using his free hand, he bundled her tight to his body, holding her close, his thumb rubbing gently on her exposed shoulder.

"Bad dreams, love?"

She hesitated, trying to force her voice to work. The nightmare had rendered her throat dry and her voice useless. "...Not so much dreams as memories this time..."

A single gentle squeeze and she knew he understood. "Your parents?"

She clenched her eyes shut as she tried in vain to chase away the last dreadful wisps of the memory that clung stubbornly to her mind.

"Worse."

Wrapping her arms around his warm body, she clung to him. The dreams wouldn't dare haunt her whilst he was here.

"It was that night; the night when everything fell apart. The night before the–"

"Before the battle," he finished, his eyes becoming distant as his mind also went back to that same day. He agreed with her wholeheartedly; it had been one of the worst days ever. Riordan's news had come from nowhere, taking them by surprise like a sucker-punch to the gut.

She nodded against him. "Yes. More specifically, the... agreement with Morrigan and the next day."

"Ah."

After a moment of silence he chuckled darkly, his mind working again. "Well, it has been several years. If the world's lucky, maybe something's finally eaten her."

"Alistair!" Reina frowned up at her husband, his comment lightening her mood immensely.

"No, you're right; she's poisonous. Probably made whatever it was sick and killed it instead. Poor beastie..."

She laughed and smacked his arm playfully. "I may not have trusted her completely, but she did save our lives. I'll always be grateful for that."

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes. Her magical sex rite that unknowingly conceived my demon baby which she then made off with, never to be seen again, to do Maker only knows what with, was definitely the best thing that ever happened to me, what was I thinking?"

"Oh shut up," she laughed, rolling away from him.

"Hey, beautiful, where do you think you're going? I wasn't finished with you!" he pouted, pulling her back to him. She giggled at his statement, suddenly gasping when his cold hands found the warm, bare flesh of her belly.

"Oh dear Maker! Did you touch every stone between here and Ayla's room? Andraste's blood!"

"Yep. It's all part of my nefarious plan to return to you, pathetic and freezing, touch you all over, and thus giving you a marvelous incentive to warm me up," he smirked, his mouth finding hers in the dark and kissing it softly, sweetly, but with an underlying hunger. "Is it working?"

"Mmm... I should say so... Monsters all vanquished then?" she asked when he released her, suddenly feeling much more awake.

His clever hands slid along her abdomen, drawing ever closer to her bosom and warming steadily as they went. While his hands worked, his mouth began it's own form of torment, starting just below her jawbone and gradually drifting along her neck to trail kisses along her shoulders and collarbone, tasting everything and leaving no curve unexplored.

He ceased his torture long enough to reply, his lips tickling her skin as they formed the words. "Oh yes, in record time, in fact. Which leaves plenty of time for celebrating and…" he paused over her throat, lowing his mouth to the hollow of her throat and began to all but inhale the very essence that was his wife. "Joyous revelry, among... other... physical pursuits."

She gasped, her voice escaping in short bursts as his lips voraciously ate their way over her throat and down her chest, sampling flesh and leaving her skin ablaze.

"Dear Maker– How about mad, passionate love-making? Does that make the list?"

His only response was a low moan of assent as his mouth worked its way back up her torso, along her neck and jaw to gently press against her own.

"Mmm… I like the way your mind works, your Majesty," she mumbled, her mind beginning to go numb.

"That's nothing. Wait till you see what else I have in mind, my Lady," he managed, his voice husky from desire.

Smiling devilishly, Reina rolled onto him, eager now and sleep long forgotten as she and Alistair made love in the waxing light of the early, pre-winter dawn.


End file.
